


Allision

by MisMisto



Series: Tell me if you can, Helmsman; what is it that you have created? [2]
Category: Breach: The Archangel Job
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Original Character(s), POV Second Person, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisMisto/pseuds/MisMisto
Summary: You could only hope he hadn’t noticed your staring, but with someone like Michael you somewhat doubt that. Although you soon realised there was no need to worry, because when you look back up at his mask, you see that he was also regarding your… torso, if you read his eyes correctly. But you could be wrong; after all, you never knew with these masks. Only one way to find out.You gingerly clear your throat, and sure enough, his gaze lifts slightly upwards to meet your eyes again.Post-Book 1. A hypothetical beginning to Michael's romance from the perspective of my OC Alexandra Cirone. They drink coffee together, confirm their mutual attraction, and Michael steals a whole jar of cookies.
Relationships: Michael/F!Raphael (Breach: The Archangel Job)
Series: Tell me if you can, Helmsman; what is it that you have created? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999360
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Allision

As you were still recovering from your wounds in what remained of Gregory’s church, You’d thought of a couple different scenarios as to where you would be by the end of the month. Best case scenario had you staying with the Archangels and diligently working to regain your teammates’ trust, and the worst had your lying dead in an unmarked grave that no one had even bothered to close. Both were equally painful to think about at the time, so you’d let them dissipate into the farthest corners of your memory, only to retrieve them when enough time had passed and the end of the month had arrived. You compared your current situation to the ones you’d fabricated, and realised that, funnily enough, none of them had taken place. Your team had welcomed your back with open arms and only _one_ of them had punched you in the face, the Archangels had sent the Chicago Outfit fleeing after their raid on the warehouse, and now here you were, humming a dreamy tune and making coffee for yourself in your newly decorated home, with every broken window and bullet hole mended and forgotten.

The muggy august heat had dwindled and left its place to a clean crispy breeze as midnight approached. Miriam meows curiously and steps on your bare feet, as if to stop you from doing whatever you had intended to do so you could pet and snuggle and spoil her as much as her little heart desired. You grin and tiptoe around her, moving quickly to fetch your French press before she could wrap herself around your legs again, or perhaps mistake you for a climbing post who just happened to be covered with rather expensive night clothes.

As you were about to press and pour the contents of the machine into your cup, you hear someone knocking at the door. You frown and put the French press down to retrieve your gun from the other side of the counter, and Miriam, sensing a possible threat, quickly flees to her safe place inside your wardrobe. It couldn’t be Mouse because Miriam would’ve recognised his footsteps before he could even knock on the door, and he would never come home early from a game night if he could help it. You wrap a shawl around your shoulders and hide the gun behind its shroud as you approach the door. Pressing cautiously against it, you look through the peephole and see… Wait, is that-..? You rub your eyes for a few seconds and squint into the glass again. Sure enough, it’s a fleurs-de-lis mask, and its bearer was leaning against the side of the doorway with his elbow and drumming his fingers on the door in a thoughtful rhythm. Michael? At this hour? _Alone?_ The questions whizzing around in your head coax a huff out of you, both in relief and slight agitation. You shake away your thoughts with a dismissive wave of your hand, brush your hair behind your ear (when had you let it down?), and open the door, peeking your head out from behind it.

“Michael!” You smile at him. “Hello.”

He straightens and leans away from the door. “Evening, Alex.”

 _Stop hiding behind the door, you idiot_ , you think to yourself, and put your gun down on the counter beside you before stepping into view, mimicking his earlier pose with your hand on the doorframe. Michael was wearing a leather harness on top of his dress shirt instead of his usual heavy armour and holding his jacket against the crook of his arm. Standing a couple of feet apart from you, you thought you could smell fresh cologne wafting from him. Your smile turns into a lopsided smirk and your face feels slightly warmer despite desperately trying push your building excitement down, absolutely in _no_ way paying attention to how his suit fit snugly onto his body and accentuated his muscular build. You could only hope he hadn’t noticed your staring, but with someone like Michael you somewhat doubt that. Although you soon realised there was no need to worry, because when you look back up at his mask, you see that he was also regarding your… torso, if you read his eyes correctly. But you could be wrong; after all, you never knew with these masks. _Only one way to find out._

You gingerly clear your throat, and sure enough, his gaze lifts slightly upwards to meet your eyes again. The mauve tones of your nightgown contrasts with your tanned shoulders and dark hair quite nicely, you have to admit, although you somewhat suspect that the culprit may be the plunging neckline and the cold of the hallway behind him prickling your skin noticeably. _Oh dear god,_ you think as you glance down, slightly mortified, and wrap your shawl tighter around you.

Michael makes a muffled sound that almost sounded like a laugh that was cut-off with considerable difficulty, and he forces it down when you throw a pointed look at him.

“How have you been?” he asks, no sign from his earlier slip-up. With the way he composed himself so quickly you entertain the possibility that this whole exchange could’ve been your imagination playing tricks on you. 

“I’m alright.” You rub your hip. “Shot’s been healing nicely and it only hurts when I sleep at a weird angle now.”

“Good to hear.” You nod at him and smile, but a frown latches onto your face and pushes it down when you realise he wouldn’t have come out here all alone for light-hearted chatter. You look around the hallway behind him and listen closely for any gunshots in case he had a tail.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” he shifts his weight between his feet. “There’s just something I wanted to discuss with you.”

You relax, but stop yourself mid-sigh and raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I in trouble?”

“That depends.” He steps closer into your personal space and lowers his voice, not enough to intimidate you, but just enough to pose a warning. For what, you would have to see.

“That’s…” You puff out your cheeks as you search for words, “…terribly vague. But I guess there’s no point in keeping you outside.” You step aside to invite him in, etching a soft smile on your lips because you’re nothing if not polite, even if there is a possibility that he might try and shoot you again. Michael nods at you as he walks inside, looking around the hallway as you close the door behind him. Then he cocks his head curiously as if he noticed something.

“What is it?” You ask with your arms crossed, not quite able to hold off your grin that just grows wider when he lifts up his mask to sniff at the air.

“Is that coffee?” he asks, his voice tinged with amusement.

“It is! I was making some for myself before you arrived.” You look up at him expectantly and wiggle your eyebrows. “Want a cup?”

Michael immediately nods. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“ _Meow?_ ” You could hear Miriam’s soft steps as she approached, looking up at Michael curiously with sleepy blue eyes. Michael looks at her for a moment before taking off his gloves and putting them on the counter beside him, then he squats down and extends his hand towards her. After sniffing his fingers for a few seconds, Miriam meows in approval and rubs her chin on his hand, purring loudly as he scratches the back of her ear. This is probably the cutest thing you have ever seen.

You quickly turn back towards the kitchen because not only do you not want to overcook the coffee, but also because if you stayed there for another moment you might have squealed in delight like a teenage girl with raging hormones.

“Milk and sugar?” You call to him.

“Just sugar.” Michael calls back, standing up and straightening his shirt as Miriam wraps herself around his legs. He walks inside the living room, careful of Miriam’s path around his feet. He sees that it was refurnished and decorated so tastefully that it was almost unrecognisable from its earlier state, and was immediately hit with the smell of lavender and freshly brewed coffee.

“You’ve changed up the place.” He notes as he puts his jacket on the back of an armchair and smooths it out.

“I did.” You look over the counter and scan the living room, a grin lighting up your eyes. “I was going to hold back on it in case the Outfit paid us a visit again, but the allure of having a properly decorated living space won by a margin.”

“It looks good.” Michael nods and sits down on the couch, resting his elbow on the armrest. “Homey.”

“Thank you.” you chirp. As far as you’ve come to understand, Michael was not the type of guy to say something just for the sake of small talk or to break the silence, so you happily accept the compliment. As you work on heating up some chocolate chip cookies, Miriam bonks the sides of Michael’s thighs with her forehead before running back into your room, leaving small pieces of fur stuck on his trousers, though he didn’t seem to mind. He was looking at cream walls and watercolour paintings, tapping his fingers in that same languid rhythm. You wonder just what he could be thinking about.

With two cups of coffee and a bowl of cookies ready at hand, you bring over the tray and perch opposite from Michael. He lifts his mask, holds his cup of coffee up towards his face and breathes in its scent.

“Hope you like it.” You grin proudly as he takes a sip, and in an instant his shoulders visibly slumps, like some of the tension ingrained within him was lifted at least for a moment. He hums appreciatively and looks at the cup with mild astonishment, then back at you, and raises his cup in a toast. You return the gesture with your own cup and the two of you drink your coffees in semi-comfortable silence, interrupted only with your occasional huffs as you blow away the steam before taking tentative sips, as the coffee is still very hot. Michael doesn’t seem bothered by it at all as he gulps it down without hesitation. You watch him finish a good portion of his coffee, slightly horrified. When he's done, he puts his cup down on the coffee table and sits back with a sigh, then looks over at you. He shrugs at your expression.

“It’s not that hot.”

“I…-” you stutter. “I literally just burnt the tip of my tongue and I haven’t even taken a mouthful.”

“Well…” he crosses his arms. “Personally, I like my coffee when it’s nice and hot.” He tilts his head and looks down at you judgingly. “Unlike you, it seems.” His body language screams hostility, but even with his voice-distorter back in place, you could read the tell-tale signs of a smile speckled between his words.

“Well,” you crinkle your nose at him in mock-annoyance, “I simply prefer to wait until it’s cooled down to a temperature where it’s no longer a health hazard.”

“Enjoy your stale coffee, then.”

“Enjoy your lava.”

At long last Michael lets out a chuckle, taking off his mask and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck you.” he mutters. You just wink at him in reply and reach for a cookie while you wait for your coffee to cool. When you glance at him, you see amusement lining the corners of his dark brown eyes. This was the first time you’ve seen them.

“Oh, and,” you blink away and gesture at the bowl of cookies, “I didn’t know what kind of cookies you liked, so I just heated up the ones we made yesterday-... wait.” you squint at the now half-empty bowl, then at the crumbs on the tray directly leading towards the general direction of… Michael, of course. He pauses his chewing when your eyes meet. Never mind how you didn’t even see him move, but… How did he eat so fast?

“How did you eat so fast?” you relay your thoughts.

He thinks for a moment as he finishes the cookies and washes it down with some coffee. “Old habits.”

You nod in understanding. “I know they’re not on par with Gabe’s, but I think we did an okay job.”

Michael smirks. “I don’t think anything can be on par with Gabe’s cooking, but it’s been some time since he made anything with chocolate. These were some of the best ones I’ve had in a while.” He brushes off the crumbs on his hands onto a plate. “Hospitality, coffee, cookies… And here I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” you smile at him, beaming with sincerity that Michael would have found alarming if he didn’t know better. “I appreciate the company, but I’d feel slightly better if you told me why I’m…” you notice that he was tapping his fingers again. “… _potentially,_ in trouble.”

“Straight to business, huh?” His hand finally stills. “Good.” After a brief moment of consideration and another sip from his cup, Michael steeples his hands together and turns to face you. You put your cup down on the tray as well.

“As you know, the recent turn of events with the Outfit required me to work with you and Kaidan’s team in person, and we had the opportunity to work together much more often than before.” He searches your face before continuing. “During that time I couldn’t help but notice your… _advances,_ towards myself, and that brings us to my purpose of visit.” All of a sudden his eyes seemed to soak up all the light in the room and you found yourself staring into them, captivated. His posture shifts, and you feel his aura expand upon you. “I’d like to know what exactly you’re hoping to achieve.”

It was true that you’ve garnered feelings for him during the time you worked together, and you’ve been watching a little too closely to how he talked and the way he moved. It was easy to be pulled by his magnetic aura, but you would’ve easily gotten over it if you hadn’t noticed that he’d been watching _you_ as well. There was an undeniable tension brewing between you, and while you couldn’t quite tell the nature of it because you’d never _seen_ how he looked at you from behind his mask, you’d _felt_ it. Now that you could finally see it, your heart had started beating so fast that you’re certain Michael could see it pulsing through your neck as he watched you, and out of the corner of your eye you see his grip on his thigh tighten and form deep wrinkles on the fabric of his trousers. You take a deep breath and steel your nerves before answering.

“That… is entirely up to you.” you manage with a weak smile. “I’m not going to play coy and say that my…” you gesture at the air half-heartedly, “ _advances_ were unintentional, but I admire not only how you operate at work, but also what I’ve come to see of you as a person. However.” Your eyes lock in on your hands. “I know you might view these endeavours as an unwanted distraction, or perhaps you don’t have the same feelings for me and I’ve just been imagining things. Wouldn’t be the first time.” You chuckle nervously. “So, I… leave it to you to decide the right course of action here. I’ve never been good at these things, but I know I can trust your judgement.” Now your face was burning more than ever, and you allowed yourself a few more seconds to go over everything you said, then when you were somewhat satisfied with your phrasing, you nod to yourself determinedly and turn back to Michael.

You were expecting a couple of different reactions, and a knowing, cheeky smirk, much like the one he was sporting now, was definitely one of them; probably the smuggest one you’ve ever seen in your life. He nods slowly before reaching over to his cup. He finishes his coffee, puts the cup down on the tray, nudges the tray so that it’s farther away from you, and licks his lips.

“You talk too much.”

“Wha-…” you blink impishly. “Well, that’s just mea- _mmph!_ ” you’re conveniently cut off when Michael charges at you and catches you lips with his own, and you fall back onto the cushioned sofa with a soft thump. Your surprised yelp trails off into a low moan and your hands find their way around him and pull him closer as sharp heat shoots down from your back and pools at the base of your spine. He kisses you hungrily and relentlessly, and you gladly return it with matching fervour. The air between you grows heavier by the second as your breaths and tongues intertwine, and you have to pull away to take a breath. You sit back and rest your head on the sofa to get a good lungful of fresh air, but Michael’s hot breaths against the crook of your neck is making it really hard to concentrate on _not_ -hyperventilating.

“Did you really just…” you start shakily as his rough kisses travel down your throat. “…come into my house just to seduce m-.. _Ahh._ ” Your spine arches sharply when his mouth latches onto you, and with a flash of teeth he leaves a bruising kiss just below your collarbone.

“ _Yes_.” He growls. You lift his head up to kiss him again and your groans reverberate through your lips as you collide back into one another. He wrings noises out of you that you didn’t think you could make as he works your body with bold, rough strokes, and you feel his shoulder blades moving under your grip. While his hands are busy on your waist and the curve of your ass, you trace your fingers down the dips and nooks of his chest, humming in approval when you feel the firm muscle beneath fabric and leather. An idea pops into your mind and you grin into the kiss before parting from him with a final sweep of your tongue across his lower lip, and he makes a gruff, impatient sound in-between a huff and a growl. You wink at him in reply, hook a finger around his tie and slide downwards to pull him down with you, but he doesn’t let you take him down completely, not yet. You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he deftly detaches his harness with practiced ease and lets it slide down his shoulders. His breathing has gotten heavier, but his movements are still slow, deliberate and controlled, although his hungry gaze is anything but. Michael looks down at you with a smirk playing on his reddened lips, his dark eyes having turned almost pitch-black. As he eagerly climbs on top you, he currently reminds you less of a man and more of an animal.

He presses himself into you, still careful to not put too much pressure on your injured hip, and resumes his merciless assault on your lips and neck, and you can already feel your core thrumming with red heat as if you’ve been kissing for hours on end, but you doubt it’s been over a couple of minutes. You wonder if he’s still holding back… whatever it was that you saw in his eyes, but then he grabs a handful of your hair and tugs it sharply to the side to expose your neck and your senses are bombarded with the feeling of pressure, pain and pleasure crackling from your scalp, your body twitching weakly against him as you cry out. Your hips jerk upwards, desperately seeking friction. He replies in kind with a rough roll of his hips that does nothing to ease the ache in between your legs, but he just chuckles vilely and moves at such an angle that you can feel his growing bulge brush against your stomach, taunting you. You never thought Michael would be such a fucking tease, but again, today has been full of surprises. You wrap your legs around his hips and loosen his tie with shaky fingers as his hands slip under your gown and travel up to fondle your perked breas-

**_RIIIIING!_ **

You both freeze. Michael’s hands still on your skin and your moan turns into a meek yelp. You wait to see if it was indeed his phone and not yours and… Yep, that’s definitely not yours. You let out a sigh.

 _Wonderful_.

Michael clenches his jaw as he takes a deep breath through his nose, then lets it out just as slowly like he’s doing his absolute best to not go berserk and honestly, you can’t blame him at this point. You chuckle and pat his head, which earns you a non-committal grunt from him. He lifts his head up groggily and looks at you as if to say “ _I have to take this, but I swear I will kill whoever called me._” You smile reassuringly and give him a soft kiss, possibly the first one you’ve shared that night. His eyes flicker closed as he relaxes ever-so-slightly, and he brushes his thumb over your nipple before pulling away. Then he turns and glares at the general direction of his phone with such pure hatred that you half-expected it to go up in flames, but that wouldn’t have been entirely pleasant because his phone appears to be in his ass pocket. You can’t help but snort at the absurdity of your situation and he raises a judging eyebrow at you, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reaches for his phone and answers it, but doesn’t break his eye contact with you.

“Michael.”

“ _Gabriel_.” You hear his distorted voice through the phone. By the way Michael rolls his eyes and nods to himself, he was expecting it to be him. “ _What took you so long? I rang you two times!_ ”

He looks down at you and smirks, reaching down to trace the curve of your lips. “I was busy.”

There is a brief pause as Gabriel waits for an explanation that never comes. Might as well use it, you think to yourself, and softly bite into the flesh of Michael’s thumb. His face darkens, and he yanks it away from your mouth with a dangerous glint in his eyes, yet you feel him twitch against your stomach.

Finally, you hear a resigned sigh from Gabriel before he continues. “ _Are you far? I need you to come here.”_

At that, Michael frowns. “What is it?” he sits up on the couch so he’s no longer straddling you and begins fixing his shirt. He transfers his phone to his other hand as he begins to reassemble his harness with his right. You hoist yourself upwards as well, and sit on your knees to reach and help him pull the harness around his shoulders. When that’s done, he sits back and moves to tuck his phone into his shoulder to free his hands, but you stop him when you sit on his lap, then move to re-do his buttons and fix his tie. From how he tensed with the sudden contact you were half-expecting him to push your hands away, but he lets you help him while he works on the top buttons with one hand and you work on the lower. When you’re done, your hands meet in the middle and he clasps them in his.

“What did they say?” he asks, and listens to Gabriel’s reply. You can’t quite discern what he’s saying, but Michael’s deepening frown tells you it can’t be all that good. You absently rub soft circles around his knuckles, and in turn he tightens his grip on your hands. You can feel his pulse slow to a calmer pace.

After a few more seconds of listening, he nods and says “I’ll be there,” before turning off the phone and tossing it aside. Sighing, he looks at you.

“Seems like we’ll have to continue our exchange another time.”

You snort at his choice of words. “It appears so.” You say and frown. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No. Not now, at least. We’ll let you know if we ever need assistance.”

“Alright.” You whisper and massage his shoulders, to which he responds by rolling them further into your touch. He rubs his eyes and mumbles to himself.

“Fucking hell, Gabe.”

The sheer desperation in his voice was the last straw for you, and before you know it your head is thrown back as you bark out a laugh. Michael just glares at you.

“This is not funny.” He warns, but his voice gives in at the last syllable and your cackle turns into a wheeze so hard that it begins to hurt your stomach. You let yourself fall forward and bury your head into his chest, hugging him weakly, and you feel his muscles contract rhythmically as he too is shaken with silent laughter. He recovers much quicker than you though, and he pats your back until you stop coughing.

“I was almost sure you were going to faint there.”

“Yeah?” You clear your throat and sit up, still smiling. “What would you have done?”

He shrugs. “Probably would’ve left you on the sofa and taken all your cookies with me.”

“At least you’re honest.” You snort and peck his lips, a feather-light kiss that has him leaning forward for another. You happily oblige and kiss him again, deeper this time, then roll away from his lap and curl up into a ball beside him. He stands up with a huff and fixes his shirt before heading for the bathroom. As you rearrange your… everything, since you’re a mess right now, you think about what just happened. You’ve never been terribly confident concerning the affairs of the heart, and your experiences with crushes have been nerve-wracking at best and horrendous at worst, but all things considered you’d like to think this one went really well, minus the interruption. And despite your tendency to take things slow before doing anything rash, the latest turn of events have shown you that sometimes listening to your gut in favour of a methodical approach is the best thing you can do. Michael comes out of the bathroom a moment later, composed and the only sign that he had been making out with someone just a couple of minutes ago is covered with a strategic tug of his trousers. You work on tidying up the table as he walks over to you.

“Any chance I can take some cookies for the road?”

“You know,” you lilt your words playfully and throw a sideways glance at him, “if, by some chance, the cookie jar on the blue countertop were to go missing, I wouldn’t bring it to Edwyn’s attention if it appeared back where it had been before the end of this week.”

Michael grins at you and rubs his hands before he leans down to get his mask from the couch. He gestures at the tray with his head.

“Don’t forget your shitty coffee.”

You whirl around to face him and gasp dramatically, paying no heed to your now-lukewarm cup of coffee because how _dare_ he. “Hey, fuck you!”

He sneers darkly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I-…” He cuts you off with a searing kiss, and stabilizes you with a hand on the small of your back when you sway with the intensity of it. Apparently today’s _get kissed in the middle of a_ _sentence_ day, and you don’t exactly mind, but before it could get any more heated he wretches his face away from you, squeezes your ass, and heads into the kitchen. You open your mouth to make a remark, but ultimately chuckle and lie back onto the sofa. When he comes back from the kitchen, you see that his cheeks are once again puffed up and stuffed with cookies, and before he retrieves his gloves and puts his mask back on, you see warmth flash over his eyes when he looks at you, as well as something else.

You call behind him as he opens the door. “Do bring the jar back!”

He hums in affirmation, gives you a small wave, and shuts the door gently behind him. You let your face fall into a pillow.

“ _Meow?”_ Miriam appears seemingly from nowhere and hops onto you.

“Hey, sweetheart. I just made out with my boss.” You explain.

“ _Puurrrrrrr_.” She responds and starts kneading your back with her small paws.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You hug the pillow closer to you and close your eyes, smiling lazily. “I’m probably screwed.”


End file.
